Page 28 of Ghostridden
I’d thought my house was big, but this place washuge.
“No wonder he called it a manor,” I murmured.
My house had two turrets. This one had at least five that I could see, red-shingled with decorative metal toppers that seemed too short to be lightning rods, but its massive facade was clearly the tip of the Victorian iceberg.
There was at least an acre of grass—a little shaggy and dotted with the occasional dandelion—sweeping from the drive to a boxy hedge that framed a fountain circled by four marblestatues. The wide porch that spanned the front of the mansion was backed by tall windows, ensuring very nice views of the statues’ bare backsides, and the massive front doors werejuuustoff-center enough to look unsettling.
A big wooden sign in the same style as the one in front of the library stood at the edge of the lawn. It readRichdale Manorin giant gilt letters, and underneath in smaller font,Museum and Gift Shop. A more discreet sign attached to its bottom by black chains directed me toParking, so I followed the arrows foranotherquarter mile—jeez, the footprint of this place had to be bigger than the entire town—and swung into the gravel lot that was at least as big as my back yard, Professor DeHaven’s, and Sofia’s put together.
And totally empty, except for a single dusty Nissan LEAF.
As I parked next to the lone car, I hoped the absence of visitors was because of the early hour and not lack of tourist interest. Given Taryn’s comments, though, I suspected the Manor was having as much trouble attracting tourist dollars as the town of Ghost as a whole.
I finished the last bite of muffin and climbed out of my car, brushing crumbs off my jeans, and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder. Locking up was irrelevant. For one thing, if anybody was desperate enough to steal the Civic, they had more problems than I did. For another… Did I mention the fenced grounds, long driveway, and empty parking lot?
I stood next to the car for a minute, uncertain how to get in. But just as I’d finally decided to circle around to the front verandah, Saul poked his head out a door near the rear of the house. I hadn’t noticed it because it was camouflaged by an odd combination of shadows and weird wall angles. In fact, even though I’d seen it now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to spot it again ifit was closed.
“Maz! Good to see you!” Saul beckoned me over. “Come in this way.”
When I jogged over to meet him, he held the door for me and gestured for me to enter. I stepped inside what was clearly a visitor’s center—complete with a ticket window, spinners of postcards, and shelves of merchandise, although the merch was a little sparse.
“Good morning.”
“So glad you could make it.” Saul led me through the room and into a hallway. He tapped the wallpaper above the cream-painted shiplap wainscoting. “Thaddeus had this wallpaper custom made to honor his daughters.”
I peered at the delicate floral designs on the ivory background. “I take it his daughters were named Daisy, Violet, and Iris?”
“Daisy, Violet, Iris… and Caroline.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That seems… pointed.”
Saul shrugged. “Apparently Frances, Thaddeus’s wife, put her foot down when he wanted to name the fourth girl Heliotrope.”
“And I’m sure Caroline was grateful.”
“That’s undetermined. From all accounts, Caroline was the least… compliant of the Richdale children, possibly because other than her twin, Cornelius—”
“Cornelius? Really? Why do people persist in giving twins alliterative names? Isn’t it enough they’ve got the same birthday? Give them their own initials, for Pete’s sake.”
“I suspect the alliteration was the least of her worries. Her other siblings persisted in calling her Ragweed.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
“Exactly.” He continued down the hall, making at least three sharp right angle turns before stopping at the foot of a narrow staircase. “We’ll take the servant’s stairs.”
“Seems appropriate.”
“Yes, well, we do live to serve.”
I followed him up the steps to the second floor, where he ushered me out of the stairwell and down a wide hallway into a long, light-filled room, its ceiling and paneled walls painted white, a jewel-toned rug on its gleaming hardwood floor. Judging by the ceiling angles that framed a tall, multi-paned window, we had to be in one of the many gables I’d noted from outside.
Saul grinned at my slack-jawed expression. “We may live to serve, but that doesn’t mean we have to be miserable while we’re doing it. Please. Have a seat.” He took his place behind the massive oak desk that sat in front of the window, and I managed to stumble across the room and sit in a brocade-padded chair across from him. He rested his elbows on his chair arms and laced his fingers across his middle. “I’ve been intending to inventory and organize Thaddeus Richdale’s papers practically since I was hired on as director.”
“When was that, sir?”
He waved one hand. “Oh, please. Call me Saul. No need for formality here.”
“All right. Saul, then.”
